


The Enemy of My Enemy...

by IrrelavantSherlock512



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Beware: Cliffhangers, Canon Compliant, Case Fic, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Or Sort Of, Poi villains, Psychological Torture, Questioning, Reflection, Team Dynamics, Torture, Whump, at least 'til 4x16 Blunt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrrelavantSherlock512/pseuds/IrrelavantSherlock512
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Blunt. Harold and John receive a new number but unpredictable circumstances prevent them from helping. Now, they are the ones who need saving. Can the Machine and Root reach them before it is too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Number

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first fanfic and of course I wanted it to be about my favorite vigilantes. Hope you enjoy it! XD  
> As you will see, I really really enjoy whump and in this story our heroes receive their fair share of it. If you are not into that kind of stuff, I recommend you to skip my poor try at writing down all the scenarios that run wild in my mind.  
> Also take in concideration that English isn't my mother tongue so there is a high probability you will find grammar and spelling mistakes and a lack of diverse vocabulary or phrasing structure in spite of checking and double-checking each chapter before publishing it. If you find out something atrocious while reading, let me know in the comments below. I would really appreciate it. It will help me improve my writing abilities in English, which is one of the purposes of doing this.  
> Rest asure, I have the general outline of the story planned already and I have written almost half of it. You will get closure, I promise ;)  
> Have fun!!

Steps echoed through the empty tunnels. Finch entered the subway wagon with some books under his arm. Oh! How he missed the commodities of the library and not having to go to the public one to decipher The Machine's phone calls. He took off his hat and coat and he hung them on one of the handrails' hooks. It was the middle of January and it was freezing outside. Even their hideout was cold but it was beyond uncomfortable working with the heavy coat on. He limped towards his chair and placed the books softly over some exams that needed grading at his desk and started typing the social security number they received that morning. The computer started searching for its owner.

 

 _Why our lives became so difficult,_  he asked to himself. Not that saving numbers was ever easy but keeping their day jobs was a whole new challenge added to the superhero part. Trying to stay away from the prying eyes of Samaritan was harder every day because the number of operatives working for it grew exponentially and their actions surely made the program raise a metaphorical eyebrow. 

 

Finch went to the back of the car to prepare a cup of tea while he waited for the results. He was exhausted from the last number they saved and his back and leg were killing him. Mr. Reese spent quite a while dealing with some of Dominic's men trying to save a young lady from their clutches but because John couldn't be away from the precinct for too long before it became suspicious, he had to assist Detective Fusco with the legwork keeping an eye on her, which involved following her all around the city. He hoped the next number's job hasn't anything to do with delivery companies. They had grown used to being more heads in the team but with Ms. Shaw and Root gone, they returned to the days where John did all the work by himself, well... with a little help. 

  
The streets have grown more violent since Elias’ right hand, Anthony, died but they assumed he was lurking in the shadows rebuilding his lost empire and plotting his revenge against The Brotherhood, trying to take control again over the city. Dominic was step by step building his empire, gaining man-power and he had recently threatened John directly, although Harold didn’t know the specifics. The situation with Samaritan was critic as ever. One team member was probably dead because of it and the other was resented and running errands for the Machine. If it weren't for Root he would probably be dead by now or in Decima's clutches. If he was paranoid before, the sentiment had increased over the last weeks. 

 

Harold returned to his desk with a steaming cup in his hands. Black tea wasn't his favorite but since he didn't like coffee it was the next best thing if he wanted to stay relatively awake and warm. _To die for, indeed_   he thought as he took a sip from his mug, remembering Root’s bitter words from when they last spoke.

 

The picture of a middle aged man appeared on the monitor. His name was Rick Halpert. He looked quite average for a 38 year old. Finch started reviewing the data his searching engine was spitting out. 

 

He dialed John’s phone using their private network and he waited while looking at his computer screen.

"Professor" John greeted him. 

"Hello, detective..." he answered.

"Judging by the hour, I'm sure this isn't a social call. What do you need?"

"We just received a new number... I'll send you the details, I know it's late but we really should check on this guy."

"Just when I was going to call it for the day. I'll meet you at the station in 30 minutes. Need to get some hardware." Tiredness resounded in every word he spoke. "See you then..." And with that the line went dead.

 

They really longed to get some rest, but the numbers never stop coming. Bringing anyone else in was out of the question at the moment but oh how they desperately needed more hands to help with their side project. 

 

Finch printed a photograph of their new number and proceeded to stamp it on one of the car's windows. He continued drinking his tea watching absent minded at his computer.

He missed Bear, pity he was helping Detective Fusco on a case. He would be scratching his head to relax his nerves. The dog really helped him with the loneliness he sometimes felt. Being a ghost had its pros and cons. Since he began his partnership with John, he felt relieved he could rely on someone again and he could even think of him as his friend. In the times he had needed saving or even guidance, John had been there always, same as he had been for him. The bond uniting them grows stronger each day they outlive death and although they both know they are on a suicide mission they do their best with the time they have left. Losing friends on the way weighs heavily on their shoulders but different situations have proven time and again that they can’t do this alone, and in the event they both died it could be nice is someone continued with their work. Not that Finch wanted anyone to die for his cause. He will always remember Sameen dear in his heart for joining their crusade and making it hers, showing redemption is possible even for people too far gone as Reese and her.

 

Harold’s train of thoughts was interrupted by the buzzing sound emanating from his phone.

 

“Detective, is everything alright?” Finch asked.

“Not sure about it, Harold… I was walking to the nearest subway station when I noticed someone was following me. I’m trying to get rid of her at the moment but she seems pretty good at this. Might take me a while but I’ll be there as soon as I can…”

“Be careful, John…”

 

"John...? As in Detective John Riley?" a familiar voice calmly said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about it? Kudos and comments are highly appreciated!  
> I'm confident you have already guessed the POI villain I'm going to write about in the story, but I didn't want to spoil it in the tags. This is just getting started. Love being very descriptive. When I read, it helps me visualize the scene the author had in mind while writing. Hope it helps you too. If you are not that into it, don't worry... The next chapters feature more dialogue. I'll try to update every third or fourth day and I'm pretty sure I will finish it during next week's holidays. Thanks for reading :3


	2. Muscle and Brains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for Chapter 2? Let's go!

Finch froze for a second, recognizing the voice in his back, then he began turning off all the monitors as fast as he could in an attempt to erase all of the data that in not so trustworthy hands could create chaos. Harold tried to break his cellphone in an attempt to leave John out of this but just when he took it from his desk someone punched him in the right side of his face throwing him from his chair. In his way down, a bunch of papers, the exams he was going to grade tomorrow morning, fell with him. His head hit the floor leaving him lightheaded. He raised his hands towards his face and moaned when his fingers made contact with his nose. Blood was pouring out of it but thankfully it wasn’t broken. He tried to reach for his glasses on the floor, which fell from his face after he was hit, as Dominic continued approaching him. He didn't need to see his face to recognize him, he had heard his voice many times during the last months.

 

Finch could hear John’s muffled shouts coming from the phone’s mic, desperately asking if he was okay. Dominic lifted the phone from the floor and with the same expressionless voice he always used he said “Come and get him…” and with that he ended the call.

 

"Oh, so you were the one who stole our secure network" said Dominic, his attention now directed towards Finch. Turning to his crew he ordered, "Tie him up and gag him, we are gonna wait for his friends to come back" then turned around to look at Finch, "I have a little surprise waiting for all of them". Finch didn't react to that, he just stared blankly back at him, trying to keep calm. He couldn't see him clearly...

 

Finch didn't resist Dominic's thugs when they roughly lifted him from the floor and shoved him down on his chair. Apparently they were well prepared for an ambush bringing all sort of things, and of course, duct tape. They forced his arms behind his back, the tape a bit tight around his wrists. He wasn't tied to the chair but he didn't dare to move. _Better to wait for the reinforcements_  he thought. As much as he wanted not to involve anyone else, John was surely not going to abandon him to his luck, especially after Dominic’s daring message. A short but muscular man cut a long stripe of tape with his teeth and proceeded to slap it around Harold's mouth and the back of his neck. The thug's fingers brushed sensitive muscles and he shivered trying to keep the pain at bay. He was so not in the mood for this. 

 

"It took us only a few weeks of surveillance to find your hideout. Link here," Dominic pointed at the guy next to him "spotted the detective leaving the precinct in a hurry almost two weeks ago. He followed him to a subway station, but Riley gave him the slip. Lots of places to hide or go in a place like that. We began watching carefully, noticing some patterns. Four days ago, I decided to play with the numbers so I assigned a bunch of guys to guard all the subway stations near the precinct. I received a phone call, guess what? Detective Riley was seen leaving the train station through a seemingly out of service door in Broadway station. We decided to wait, but hours went by and we never saw him leave through the same door he entered."

 

Finch began to feel uneasy. _Was that easy to elucidate where they were meeting?_

“I concluded he must have gone somewhere inside the heart of the station, so I did a little digging and I found some blueprints from a maintenance substation just below the railways. I studied the maps and I found a strategic entrance for us to ambush you without being seen by many people. So… here we are.” he said, stretching his arms to emphasize his words in a triumphant manner.

 

Harold lowered his head, feeling defeated in a way he had never felt. The position he was forced to maintain was making him sick to his stomach. 

 

“I’d been dying to meet Riley’s boss. See… I still don’t buy the whole detective story, you know.” He continued, carrying Harold on his chair outside the subway car. Link and a tall corpulent man followed them. They placed him between the gates and the car. Dominic started walking around him. _Like a predator circling its prey_ he thought. “There must be someone behind his vigilante acts. And that person must be you. No one can care about strangers enough to risk his life for them just out of the goodness of his heart. Not without the right incentive. Humans aren’t built like that. We are greedy and selfish; we always want something in return. That’s where you come in. He is the muscle of the operation, which makes you the brains.”

 

 _How wrong you are,_ Finch thought. His own words echoed through his mind, _not everyone is bad code._ He had uttered those words not so long ago to Root and John had proven them since the day he officially met him. Sure, at first it was a job that came with a salary, which John was always so fond about donating, but it had become so much more to them. The feeling of making a small but important service to the community, saving lives because everyone is relevant to someone. Maybe they did it out of guilt, for not being able to save their loved ones but that didn’t make it any less important. They were making a difference, without asking for anything in return. And that is something people like Dominic would never understand.   

 

“What I don’t get is…” Dominic’s words surfaced over his internal rambling, “…how come you always interfere with my businesses, uh? Laura, the delivery girl you helped get away from my men, owed a friend of mine and therefore me a great deal of money. How did you know she was going to be in trouble, even before we made our first move to collect?"

 

Finch raised his head staring absently at the blurry figures in his line of sight. _Was he expecting some kind of answer?_

 

Dominic stopped in front of him watching him intently. The beeping sound of a text broke the silence that had downed over them. Dominic retrieved his phone from his trousers’ left pocket and gave it a quick look before putting it back inside.

 

“Don't worry… We'll leave it for later. Your guy is about to join our little party.” With that, Dominic moved to stand behind Harold, taking out his gun and pushing the barrel to Finch’s right temple. It felt oddly cold against his sweaty skin, making him flinch. “It’s only for insurance; we don’t want Riley having any funny ideas. I don’t want to hurt you yet. After all, I'm kind of grateful towards you, professor...” Finch could imagine the smirk forming over Dominic’s lips. _What did he mean by that? Grateful? How did he know he was a professor?_ This was worse than he originally thought. He couldn't focus on his thoughts, the gun held against his head being a highly unpleasant reminder of his current situation. Harold's head kept trying to get away from the cold metal touch out of reflex in spite of him trying not to. Dominic grabbed a tuft of his hair with his other hand, making it stand still.

 

Steps began echoing through the enclosed space. Harold could distinguish at least four different sets of footsteps, one of them belonging to John without a doubt. He was shortly amazed by how well he knew John by now and how stressful events sharpened his senses, especially now that he couldn’t see properly. Without the possible aid Miss Shaw or even Root could have provided they were surely alone. _How are we going to get out of this?_ Harold’s thoughts began rushing through alternatives as John crossed the gates into their lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated as always :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. We all die in the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got distracted with all this free time, you know. Hope you like this chapter. Tension keeps building up :S  
> IMPORTANT! I updated some bits of chapter 2 to fit some future needs, so you would like to re-read it to catch up with the storyline I will post in future chapters. Thanks for reading!

“Come and get him…” a monotonous voice said before the line went death. No doubt in John’s mind it was Dominic who uttered them. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. It was dark and freezing outside but that didn’t prevent cold sweat drops to slide down his face. _How did he find out about their secret HQ?_ They were always really careful about not attracting attention when entering through the various passages that led there; they even switched entrance points periodically.

 

Finch was surely in danger, maybe even hurt by now. He had heard some struggling over the phone before Dominic’s message, which meant Finch must certainly tried to get away but couldn’t. He needed to head there as soon as possible. John thought about all the possible outcomes to their situation, none was very promising. Even if Dominic had brought a small group with him, they were surely outnumbered. That usually wouldn’t be a problem but he didn’t kwon about the circumstances in which he might find Harold. He needed to think about his next move and fast. He looked over his shoulder, walking towards the nearest subway station. A short, fit woman of color in her early thirties was still following his every move.

 

He took out his phone and dialed Fusco’s number, raising it to his ear. He waited for him to pick up.

“Come on, Lionel…” he muttered with impatience.

“Hey, partner! I was just about to have dinner. Want to join me? There’s some...”

“Listen to me carefully,” John interrupted him, his voice deeper than usual “I need you to keep an eye on a guy named Rick Halpert. I’ll send you the details. Need to take care of something myself.” He couldn’t involve Fusco, after all, they needed help with their new number while they were unavailable. They couldn’t condemn Halpert to the same fate just to make it out alive. He must find another way. There must be something he hadn’t thought about.

“Wait, wait, wait, is there something wrong? You know I always have your back, don’t you?”

“Nothing you can help me with at the moment. Just keep an eye on that guy, okay?” and with that John pushed the end call button putting his phone back into the inside pocket of his coat.

 

Whoever was following him must be related to The Brotherhood. No point in outrunning and losing her now. He slowed down his pace letting the woman catch up with him.

“Just chatted with your boss” John turned around, facing her. He recognized her from the police raid they performed while helping Harper and Trent get away from Dominic’s group. She acknowledged him with a menacing look on her face. “Follow me” she said as she continued walking down the street. She took out her cellphone, playing carelessly with it in her hands.

“It’s Floyd. Get your asses to the corner of West End Avenue with the 82nd. There’s an alley near that corner. Meet you there.” John didn’t notice she was calling someone ‘til it was over, his head running through his options.

 

Reese followed her as she doubled a corner into an abandoned alley. “We’ve been watching you, you know? Being a detective doesn’t help with anonymity.” she said with an almost kind of friendly tone.

With a quick movement, Reese circled Floyd’s neck with his arm surprising her from behind. He took out his gun and he placed it to her side. She remained still, only bringing her hands up to pull Reese’s arm away from her throat.

“Why don’t I simply take you hostage and we skip all this.” John said. He heard footsteps heading their way but he didn’t move an inch. Making a deal with Dominic was his best bargaining chip right now and he was going to hold on to that as much as he could. The footsteps were rushing now and as they reached them the first thing he felt was a gun pressed to his nape.

“Let her go” a voice said near his ear. _Three men_ , he thought, one pressing the gun to the back of his neck and two more pointing their guns to his back.

“There’s no point in doing this, detective. Dominic isn’t gonna trade your friend for any of us. We are expendable, you need to understand that. There’s only one rule: We all die in the end.” Floyd said, her voice struggling to spit out the words. One could smell the tension in the air.

 

Her words downed over John, heavily over his shoulders. There was nothing he could do to stop what was going to happen. Surely, Dominic was going to demand answers to questions they could but won’t answer anyways. They were as good as death by now. _Why didn’t I ask Lionel for help?_ It was a selfish thought, but he couldn’t stop regretting his stubbornness. With a sigh, he set aside his gun, putting it inside his trousers through his belt for support. Slowly, he released her from his tight grip. She coughed, catching her breath and then turned to look at him.

 

“He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” With that she started walking towards the end of the alley. The gun was lifted from his nape and he was roughly pushed in the woman’s direction. He watched as she lowered herself down, lifting a metal strainer from its place above a tunnel. John knew that was a way to get to the station. _They’ve been very observant,_ he had to recognize. It wouldn’t matter, they’ll have to ditch the station and find another place to meet. _That if we get out of this_.

 

Floyd disappeared through the hole she opened on the ground. Reese turned to look at the men behind him. One of them signaled him with a gun to follow the woman. He descended into the tunnels and waited for the thugs to reach them. They started their way to the hideout. Floyd seamed very eager to continue with the small talk, throwing salt in the wound. John couldn’t care less. He watched over her shoulder as she typed a text on her cell. It read "Almost there".

 

Two minutes later, they were at the stairs that led to the entrance. When they reached the gate, John took in the entire scene before him with a stoic mask on his face. A gun was pressed to Harold’s right temple in the hand of no other than Dominic himself, who was standing behind him. He was sitting in a chair, his hands no doubt bound behind his back. Reese looked around him, trying not to be that obviously concerned over Harold’s condition. There were other five men surrounding them including Link, who smirked at him. _I will erase that mocking smile from your face_ , Reese thought. Floyd was now standing next to Dominic, a fierce look on her eyes. _Seven versus one_. That wasn’t a fair fight.

 

John’s eyes returned to Harold, fixing them on him trying to assess the damage done to his friend. He could see blood running from his nose, staining the tape that was used to seal his lips. _What was the point in that? Didn’t Dominic want answers?_ John hoped Finch’s nose wasn’t broken or it could get hard for him to breathe with the gag still on. The next thing he noticed was that Harold was squinting, unable to focus his sight on him, not without his glasses. John refrained from directing himself to Harold, trying to appear as indifferent towards him as possible. Dominic could use anything as a way to get to them. He wouldn’t give him any more leverage than the necessary.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t leave him behind” Dominic’s voice finally broke the silence that reigned over them. Reese directed his attention his way. With the way Harold was held by The Brotherhood’s leader, there was little he could do to extract them from their predicament. Not even applying all the training he went through when he was a CIA agent would put them out of harm’s way. He needed to wait for other options.

 

"It is me that you want, he doesn't know anything" Reese hissed through clenched teeth. He approached them extending his arms to his sides, offering himself to them.

 

"In fact, I think he knows a great deal..." Dominic answered. Signaling to his men he continued, "… and as much as I would love to wait for the bitch that follows you around to join the party, I think it's time to relocate our little chat. I don’t feel so comfortable staying here."

 

John sensed movement behind him but failed to avoid the hands that held him and shoved a handkerchief over his face. _Chloroform_. He began struggling with the three guys that joined him in the alley but it was a lost battle. He threw a punch that connected with someone’s face incapacitating him for the moment. It only caused the other two to redouble their efforts to subdue him. He raised his hands to his face, fighting to remove the cloth from his nose and mouth but it was pointless. He tried not to inhale but one of the two men punched him in the abdomen. Reese gulped in a long breath and he felt his eyelids beginning to close, losing consciousness. Dominic's thugs backed away and Harold heard how John's body fell helplessly to the ground.

 

"Wrap him up, we are moving out."  

Someone approached Reese's still body and began searching him thoroughly. His cellphone was tossed next to his gun along with his batch. He found a set of handcuffs on the belt pocket which he used to restrain John's arms behind his back. He returned to the inside of the car to the table that served as Finch’s desk and grabbed the duct tape. He returned and fastened his ankles together with some of it. Another man walked towards him and helped him lift John's prone body.

 

Harold remained quiet through the whole exchange, unable to see properly and most of all to do something about it. He felt Dominic's gun relocate from his head to the small of his back. "Move" he said and Finch stood up and started walking in a straight line. He stumbled and almost fell when he reached Reese’s things with his feet. Dominic sighed and Finch felt the gun leave his back. He heard footsteps returning to the car. Mere seconds later, his glasses were on their place in front of his eyes and he was pushed to keep going. Now he could see where the other thugs were taking John. They were heading to the exit that led to the alley behind a travel agency near the corner of the 32nd and Amsterdam. _Convenient_ , he thought. At night it was one of their favorite entrances because it was nearly deserted except for the occasional homeless drunk that wandered the area.

 

They walked for about ten minutes through dark corridors and tunnels in silence, stopping when they reached the door that conducted to the outside world. The guys in the front of the line dumped Reese's body and opened the door leaving it ajar. After checking no one was outside, they lifted John from the ground and pushed the door and stepped out. Finch and Dominic followed them. Harold spotted a two cars parked ten feet away from the exit. 

 

One of the men carrying John opened the trunk of one of the cars and both of them struggled to fit his entire frame inside. They placed a piece of white cloth to Reese’s nose and mouth which Harold assumed to be impregnated with the same anesthetic they used to knock out his associate. They placed a black cloth bag over his head. Before shutting the lid, Link took out another black hood and he handed it to Dominic.

 

They moved away from the car John was in, heading to the other. The last thing Harold saw before the hood was placed over his head was a camera watching over them at the corner of the alley. _Please, let it be working,_ Finch thought as he was grabbed by both arms and shoved in the back seat of the car. Two men sat on the other two spots squeezing him in the middle. He could hear doors opening and closing all around him. The car engine started and the vehicle sped off away from the alley followed closely by the other into the streets of New York. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support! This story is for all the fans of the show who need an adrenaline fix now and then just like me. As always, kudos and comments are highly appreciated :)


	4. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to imagine Dominic being more villainous than he really is on the show. He is more of a mastermind. Maybe that could change in future episodes. I really want to find out about his backstory in flashbacks. 
> 
> Enjoy this chapter :)

It was hot inside the thick cloth and his arms, back and leg where painful as ever. The four men guarding him kept quiet for the entire time they drove through the streets of New York. Not a single person would know they disappeared unless Root cared to return to the station, but after their not so friendly last conversation, that wasn't happening by any stretch of the imagination. He needed a plan in case rescue never came so he kept his mind busy trying to find a way to trick Dominic and his men. That could give them a chance to escape. He was smart, but so was Dominic so he needed something really good if he wanted to get John and himself out alive, preferably unharmed. 

The car slowed down after almost an hour. Traffic on the area was fewer, comparing it to the one in Manhattan but he could still hear cars honking and roaring now and then. _We must be in the city's outskirts_... 

Next thing he heard was a garage curtain raising. The car he was in turned left entering the building, the second car following closely behind. It closed once they were inside. The car doors opened and the man sitting to his left grabbed his arm and forced him out of the car. He listened to Dominic discussing something with his men but he couldn't get what they were saying as he was hurried down a flight of stairs. He stumbled constantly due to the lack of sight and the searing pain radiating from his leg. A door was opened a few feet from the bottom of the stairs and he was rushed in, hearing it close behind him. All the exertion made him dizzy; he needed air, but with his lips sealed off with the tape and the heavy cloth over his face he couldn't get much. Also, not being able to see was driving him crazy. He was forced to kneel on the ground, the movement causing a shock of electricity to travel up his spine. He moaned in pain behind the gag.

 

"We haven't even begun, Limpy" a voice said in front of his face. Harold could hear the other men laughing quietly around him. _This isn't looking good_. He heard steps approaching him from behind, hands fumbling with his bindings. The man sighed in frustration and began cutting the tape with a knife, luckily missing his skin in every attack. Pain assaulted him from the change of position but he couldn't pay enough attention to it because once again his wrists where being fastened tightly in front of him, now with some rough feeling rope. 

He could listen to the tinkling sound of a chain. The man in front of him lifted his bonded arms away from his abdomen and attached a metal hook to the center of the rope. Harold shivered unconsciously. _No, this can't be happening!!_ He began to shake his head as most as the pain in his neck allowed him to, trying to change his captors' minds. He knew it didn't work as he heard the chain running through a pulley. Ten seconds after, he was no longer kneeling, his hands all the way above his head, arms completely stretched. His feet where still firmly set on the ground but he feared that would change soon. The pain was excruciating, little yelps escaping his mouth. _Why today of all days, SOMEBODY HELP!!_  Just as he felt another tug at his arms someone burst inside the room.

 

"What the hell are you doing!?" Dominic's voice echoed. "We don't treat our guests like this. Lower him down and give him a chair." Finch almost fell to the ground with the loosening of the chain that pulled his arms up just seconds ago. He was made to walk towards a chair and he was shoved down on it not to gently. To say he was relieved was an overstatement but he sure was glad he wasn't going to feel what being hanged from your wrists would feel like. He tried to breathe and relax, adrenaline still running through his veins. 

The rope around his wrist was removed and his arms were pulled behind the seat's rest. They were reattached with the rope and his ankles where tied to the legs of the chair. Finally, the hood was removed from his head and he blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the bright light that bathed the room they were in. To be honest, it wasn't that bright but after being at least an hour or more in complete darkness, it felt horribly painful. He could feel a headache starting to form in the back of his head.

 

The room was big, 700 square feet at least, the walls, ceiling and floor where gray, smooth and bare, except for reflectors with white lightbulbs fixed to the walls on each side pointing to the center of the room. Not a window could be seen which confirmed he was on a basement. But it was an unusual basement, the height of the room at least 9 or 10 feet tall. _Maybe designed for storage_ , he thought, continuing his analysis. The only furniture he could see, apart from the chair he was sitting on, was a metallic stand with some shelves to his right. Over the shelves, carton boxes containing God knows what. He could see the thick chain and the hook from which he was hung moments ago in the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling. The other end was connected to a mechanic pulley at the opposite wall from where he was sitting. The door was at his back which made him uncomfortable, he wouldn't be able to see who came in because of his stiff neck. Besides Dominic, three more men were standing in the room, watching him. Link was among them.

 

Dominic walked towards him and removed the tape from around his face and head. He took a second to adjust Finch's glasses.

"Sorry about their manners. Mixed instructions, you know... I think we don't need that kind of encouragement to have a little chat, do we?" He grinned at him. "I don't like using force to get what I want, but when I get impatient it is usually what follows. I'm more inclined towards persuasion, playing the long game" he said, pointing his index finger to his head. “I’m sure we could make a deal without anyone getting hurt, what do you say? But first, I need answers.” Dominic crossed his arms in front of his chest.

 

Harold could only stare back at him, not sure what to say. He was still recovering from the previous experience and catching his breath, pain clouding his thoughts. Once Dominic found out everything he wanted to know, he for sure could count himself as one of the dead. He needed to buy time.

 

"I would introduce myself but something tells me you already know who I am..." he continued, pacing in front of him."...This leaves me in an interesting spot here. I don't like situations where I am in clear disadvantage, so..." he stopped, his face mere inches from him, "...why don't we start with whom you are, huh? Professor Swift doesn’t seem to suit you that much." 

Harold remained still, not a sound coming out of his mouth. He was actually astonished. _How on Earth did he find out about that alias?_ _What else did he know about?_

"Not very talkative, are you? Guess we'll have to invite our mutual friend to the party." With that, Link left the place he was occupying behind The Brotherhood's leader and exited the room. 

 

Harold didn't care about what could happen to him but he wasn't sure how long he would last with John invited to "play" with them. Fear, nausea rose from the depths of his body. He fought it to appear calm and not worried at all or surprised. He couldn't tell them anything without hinting the existence of The Machine. He needed to come up with something and fast. 

Dominic kept on looking at him in silence, studying him, waiting to see a crack in the façade Harold was building. 

Harold's thoughts were interrupted by the slamming of the door and the sound of footsteps entering the room. Link appeared on his sight and after him he could hear something was being dragged over the floor. Two of Dominic's thugs where pulling an unconscious Reese to the center of the room. Harold noticed his arms were no longer handcuffed behind his back but were tied in front of him with a thick black rope. They had removed his coat and suit coat, shoes, and socks and his shirt sleeves were adjusted just above his elbows. His ankles were no longer tied together with the tape they used to restrict him at the station. They dumped his body at the center of the room, few feet from where Finch was sitting. He faked indifference but kept looking at his friend. John began stirring, his eyelids fluttering trying to open completely. It took him another minute to adjust to the light. His blue eyes stared at Finch's, trying to reassure him. Next, they flew all over his body, searching for injuries. He smiled shortly noticing nothing out of the ordinary. He then proceeded to glare at Dominic, lied down over his left side.

 

"Well, well, well… Now that we are all here, let's continue with our conversation." Dominic said, turning his attention towards Harold once more.

“A guy describing all the wonders confined within a simple string of numbers must be clever enough to see that making a deal is his only way out of this. I promise I will keep it. I’m a man of my word.”

John looked at them with a puzzled look on his eyes. _What the hell is Dominic talking about?_ “Just like the deal you made with Elias and his henchman.” It was the only thing he managed to say.

 

Dominic only grinned at that. Ignoring John’s comment, he continued.

“I think it isn’t fair to keep the good detective out of this. See, the great thing about people like me is that we go through life unnoticed. I never liked it very much but now I see all the advantages that come with it. Shy, unassuming young man sitting at the far end of a classroom. No one notices him, no friends, he’s older than them. Special day, math teacher substitute. No one is paying attention, so he comes up with a fascinating explanation about what a circle and Pi meant…”

_Oh, no!_ _It can’t be possible_! Harold’s mind was reeling; trying to remember the day he personified Professor Swift to save Caleb when John was in prison. “…I was very impressed by the way he talked, the whole _all the world’s infinite possibilities rest within this one simple circle…_ ” he said, quoting Harold’s exact words. “That speech inspired me to reach out for what I deserved.” He leaned closer to Harold, gossiping in his ear, “I chose what to do with it, so thanks for teaching me all about it.” He backed away, big smile on his face. Harold felt crushed, sick to his stomach. That day, he uttered those words trying to inspire those students to reach for their goals. He never thought he would be responsible in a way of such destruction and death.

 

"Yeah, we’ve met before, whether you remember it or not. Didn’t want to spoil it, that’s why I didn’t say anything at the subway station. See, I was greatly surprised when I saw you there, all these years later. A man who expressed himself that way couldn't just be a simple substitute teacher.” Harold turned his sight away from Dominic, watching John’s facial expressions go from disbelieve to hatred and then to indifference in a second.

 

“No, there must be so much more to that. So the real question is… who are you and why do you keep sticking your nose in other people’s businesses?" Dominic concluded with a gruff voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was suggested to me by Randomite Girl in the comments. I really liked the idea so I went for it. Hope it fitted in nicely.  
> As always, kudos and comments are highly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)


	5. Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been away. Haven't had the time to write as of lately but I didn't want to leave anyone following this story hanging for much longer. Thank you if you are still reading this :) Enjoy the chapter.

[Feeds from the alley where John and Harold were abducted from play with many others in parallel. Red squares appear over The Brotherhood members seen on the feed.]

 

CRITICAL ALERT

 

//THREAT TO ADMIN: Detected//

PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 45.09%

 

//THREAT TO PRIMARY ASSET: Detected//

PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 43.52%

 

MONITORING CAR PLATES _GRQ 1325_ LINCOLN BLACK SEDAN

ACCESING MULTIPLE STREET CAMERAS…

 

RETASKING ANALOG INTERFACE

CONTACTING ANALOG INTERFACE…

 

* * *

 

 

Root was walking down the street following her latest lead on Shaw’s whereabouts, the man in front of her headed somewhere she didn’t know yet. He was tall and looked muscly, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She touched the back pocket of her jeans, filling the bulge formed by her small taser gun, a smirk forming over her lips.

 

He stopped for a coffee at a street stall so she sat at a bench and studied him with discretion. This guy didn’t look like the standard Samaritan agent. He was young, early 20’s but the hard look on his face gave the impression he was much older. He took a sip of the hot beverage and resumed his march. Root did too not far behind him, a freezing breeze blowing her way as she stood up. She could use some coffee too; after all it had been a long day. She tried to keep her distance, not wanting to be made before she could approach him somewhere less crowded to get the answers she was craving for. If he was aware he was being followed, it didn’t show; his body language that of a man with not a care in the world.

 

Root was momentarily distracted by a dog that passed next to her running and barking chasing a cat into the alley they just walked by. He watched them disappear, quickly returning her gaze towards her target not wanting to lose him.

 

Now that she thought about it, the dog looked a lot like Bear. It had been a while since she last saw Harold. She had to leave, needed time to sort out her feelings. She felt bitter about the way he kept referring to his partner’s loss but she couldn’t blame him and understood why he held his emotions in check. After all, he had lost many people under his watch in the past few years. She was sure he was devastated, already counting the ex-agent as one of the death.

 

Not knowing Sameen’s fate was eating slowly from her inside out. She couldn’t turn her back on everything that was happening with Samaritan but she didn’t feel it in her to keep working the numbers with Harold and company. She already had a lot going on, spreading her time between the assignments the Machine gave her: building the app and working with Caleb’s company, and of course following any lead that could help her find Shaw. She hadn’t given up on her just yet, even if She asked her to stop looking for her. _You just have to hold on a little longer, Sameen. I’m coming to get you_ …

 

She refocused on her target, watching him turn around the next corner. Just as she was about to reach it, the lonely payphone located there started ringing. “Not a good time” she said rolling her eyes, hoping the Machine would listen. She continued her way, putting her eyes again over the alleged Samaritan operative. She passed next to another payphone booth. The phone started ringing like the last one did, pleading her to answer it. She ignored it, continuing her stroll. Suddenly, a buzzing sound emanated from her cochlear implant and then the word “ _please_ ” resounded in her mind. It’s been quite a while since She last spoke directly to her so it took her completely off guard. She took one last look at the man she was following, sighing in frustration as she watched him disappear in the distance. “This better be important” she said, returning to the phone booth. She answered it, getting the first words that most likely meant they had a new number. The words were being spat out in a hurry, as if the Machine was desperate to make it as quickly as possible. “I don’t have time for this…” Root interrupted her in the middle of the second number’s code, “… call Harold.”

 

She hung up and turned to look at the now empty street. She sprinted towards the direction she last saw the man heading, trusting she could catch up with him. Her eyes roamed over the few heads she saw in front of her, trying to pinpoint her mark. He had vanished and with that her hopes of reuniting with Sameen in the near future. She turned around and stomped to the nearest light post. “Thank you for that” every bitter word leaving her mouth directed to the camera installed at the top of it, watching over her. She lowered her sight turning around again, picking up her pace. She listened as another buzz filled her mind and then two social security numbers were delivered in less than 2 seconds and after that, silence. _Oh no_ , she thought. She knew those numbers so well; after all she was the one who worked for days assembling their new cover identities. Harold and John were in trouble. As crushed as she felt after losing her lead, she wouldn’t forgive herself if anything happened to them.

 

“Where?” Root asked with a firm tone of voice. The buzzing sound filled again her thoughts and then the Machine gave her some coordinates. She took out her phone and tapped the numbers retrieving an address few seconds later. She was maybe 30 minutes out, that if she could hire a cab in the next instant. She watched the street, not many cars passing by. Fortunately, there were a few of them parked by the sidewalk. Approaching one, she tried the handle to the conductor’s door and luckily enough it was unlocked. She wired the car which roared in response, ready to get going. If she stepped on it maybe she could get there in time. She continued driving as fast as she could, rushing through the red lights. She reached the corner after only ten minutes. Now that she was there, she remembered why the address sounded familiar. Not far from the corner, there was an alley and at the end of it there was a door with an “Only authorized personnel allowed” sign on it, effectively secluding an entrance to their current base of operation. She got out of the car and ran, stopping only inches from turning around the corner of the alley. She looked up, spotting a traffic cam directed to the alley. She sneaked a quick look towards the passage, noticing it was vacant. Root proceeded reaching the door, which was left ajar. There were two possibilities: she arrived in time to help her friends before anything happened or she was too late to do something about it. The second one was more plausible, since they were never that sloppy to leave it open and risk prying eyes discovering their secret lair. She reached for it and let herself in. Root walked through the dark tunnels, a feel of unease forming in her chest. She reached the main area and took in the entire scene.

 

The first thing she saw was John’s detective badge, service weapon and cellphone tossed in the floor. A chair was awkwardly out of place between the metal gate and the subway car. Root headed into the car, observing carefully at the disaster left behind. Finch’s monitors were off, some wires pulled from the electricity supply and exam papers where all over the floor; few little red dots stained some of them. She concluded a struggle took place inside the wagon, but there was no clue left behind that could help her identify the attacker.

 

 _How did they find this place?_ Root asked herself, exiting the car pacing back and forth, shaking her head in disbelieve. They must have been watched for a very long time considering they were careful enough to keep changing their entry points to the HQ and to check if they weren’t being followed before doing so. That eliminated almost every number they’ve had since they moved there. Samaritan agents could be behind the attack but it was highly unlikely considering Samaritan couldn’t possibly have spotted them thanks to their cover identities and even if those were blown, they would have waited for her to arrive to take them all or just kill them there where no one else would find them again.

 

She directed her attention to John’s things on the floor, lowering herself to pick them up. Harold and John still have enemies from their time together before she joined them. Even Detective Riley had some friction with a new mob boss. _It could be anyone_ , she thought.

 

“I need your help” she said out loud. “Why did you send me here knowing I wouldn’t find anyone? I need to know where they are now!” Silence was her only answer. She continued with her pacing trying to think what to do. A buzzing sound emanated again from the implant and the words _Too dangerous_ answered her previous question. “Fine” Root said, rolling her eyes.

 

She remembered the camera she saw before getting into the alleyway. There must be a reason as to why the Machine sent her that specific location. If she could hack into the police network, maybe she could be able to get the feeds from the camera, that if it was still functional. She turned around, entering the car. After leaving John’s things on the desk, she dragged a chair and placed it in front of Harold’s desk. She started plugging and turning on the computers. She started hacking her way in, evading the password request. Once she was done with that she began her search for the link they used to get by the NYPD’s firewall and into the street live cam feeds. Her fingers were racing over the keys, typing as fast as she could. Every second that passed without taking action could cost her friends’ lives. Images from several avenues and streets popped on the screen. She browsed them, searching for the ones near the corner of 32nd and Amsterdam. Three feeds appeared on the screen. Root easily identified the one that belonged to the camera directed to the alley she used it to get in. Assuming the Machine contacted her as soon as She spotted some anomaly, she needed to review the feeds from the last couple of hours. She selected the feed of interest and typed “10:00pm-12:00pm” as the interval she wanted to play. She fast forwarded it, watching carefully. At the beginning it was clear, not even a cat could be spotted wandering in it. As she reached the 10:36pm mark she slowed it down, observing two black sedans parking one after the other. She kept looking as their occupants exited the vehicles. She zoom the video in an attempt to recognize their faces. They were three African American men, two of them very tall and one short compared to them. Somehow they looked familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger right on it. They stopped in front of the cars, discussing something she couldn’t hear. Then, they entered through the door, disappearing inside the tunnels. She continued watching, but nothing changed in the next 20 minutes. At the 11:03 mark she spotted a gap by the door, which was later opened and through it exited two men carrying a body which she recognized immediately followed by no other than Harold who was being escorted by one of the tall men she saw previously. Threemore men and a woman had joined them which could only mean that multiple entrances were compromised. She watched as John’s unconscious body was thrown inside the trunk of one of the cars, lid closing. After that, Harold was led to the other car and before they forced him inside it someone fitted a hood over his head. Root continued looking helplessly at the feeds as the two cars left into the city.

 

She winded back the feeds and stopped them in time to capture a license plate. She ran it through the system, following it with the city’s traffic cameras. She got the cars last known location; 58, E 230th St in the Bronx. She printed a photo of the three men that arrived first and another of the others when they left. Their lair was no longer safe, she needed to leave and find them before it was too late. _I can’t lose you too, Harold_.

 

Root picked two hand guns from the locker, a laptop form Finch’s desk and the photos she took of the kidnappers. She unplugged the monitors and machines, switching off all the facility as she left the station. Once she was out, she bought a burner phone and dialed Lionel’s number.

 

“Who’s this?” a dubitative voice answered.

“We need to meet. I need your help. Harold and John are missing.”

“Calm down Cocoa Puffs, I’ll send you my location. What do you mean “missing”? I just spoke with Wonderboy less than two hours ago. He seemed agitated but nothing unusual.”

“Just send me your location, I’ll explain myself as soon as I get there…” she said calmly, cutting the connection. She waited until she received Fusco’s text. She memorized the address before throwing the burner and stomping over it. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always kudos and comments are appreciated. Hope I won't be gone for long *crossing my fingers*


	6. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible person :( but this just popped up in my mind. Well, I'm not that sorry hehe. Now that I've seen "Asylum", I know Dominic and co. are capable of hurting his captives, really bad. Things continue to get messy.

Harold didn't answer. Now, he really didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter if Dominic knew one of his aliases. The answers he was aiming for could put his life in danger, not that Finch cared about it that much. Especially not over theirs. As much as he wanted to believe in Dominic’s promise of a deal, he knew deep down they couldn’t count on it.

 

Dominic turned to the guy standing on his right and gave him a silent order. The man walked towards Reese and without previous warning kicked him in the abdomen. John rolled on the floor, coughing, trying to pull some air into his lungs. He lowered his tied arms trying to protect himself from his aggressor. Finch kept still, not giving away how utterly worried he was. 

 

The man next to John proceeded to kick him on his back. He grunted, arching his back to relieve some of the pain. The man tugged at his hair, lifting his head from the ground and punched him until his mouth started bleeding. Then he returned to his position, leaving John slumped there for the moment. 

Reese tried to get up but his trembling arms didn't allow it. He stared back at Finch spiting some blood out of his mouth. 

"Whatever happens, don't tell them anything", John spurted out of breath. 

"Ah, ah, ah, ah. You're not here to talk. One more time and I'll have you gagged, okay?" Dominic warned. John looked away, touching his lower lip, assessing the damage. 

 

"Now, are you going to keep being stubborn or are you gonna talk?" Dominic directed his attention again at Finch. 

"For someone who claims not to like force to get what he wants, you surely make an impression." _Let's keep playing with the 'not caring' card, perhaps it would take Dominic's attention away from John_.

"I don't know what do you want to accomplish with all of this but I'll save you the trouble... I don't care about what happens to this man. He means nothing to me, he is just an employee. So seeing him hurting won't make any difference on my resolution." Harold's eyes were fixed on Dominic's, then he averted them turning to watch over John.

He didn't need to hear it from him; he knew his words were a punch even worse than the ones he had received physically. John was smart, he was sure he would catch on with the strategy he was using. A bunch of words couldn't destroy the bond they had formed over the years. Still John looked at him, hurt in his eyes. He couldn't stand the look anymore so he turned to Dominic again. 

 

"See, Detective? It isn’t enough to be loyal, uh? You risked your life for nothing.” Dominic taunted in Reese’s direction. He walked towards Harold and lowered himself to face him, eyes leveling with his. “You know, I don't think so... I watched you, while we were at your little rat hole. You do care about him, whether you like to accept it or not. I'm gonna settle the score with the Detective here. We have some unfinished business anyway. The fun part will be to see how much you can take before you start talking." 

 

Dominic snapped his fingers. Two of Dominic's men approached John and lifted his bound arms from the floor and attached the rope to the hook that was dangling from the ceiling. Another man had walked to the end of the room. When John was secured, the pulley began lifting him from the floor. It stopped when his toes where almost an inch away from the floor. That meant his whole weight was hanging from his arms alone. 

Once it was all set, the men returned to their previous positions and Link walked towards Reese, cracking his knuckles with ease. John fixed his sight on Dominic's second in command, a sassy smirk on his face. Link stood in front of the hanged man and just when he was about to punch him in the stomach, Reese’s arms tensed as he boosted his leg and kicked him in the groin. 

 

"SON OF A BITCH!!" he exclaimed, curling up into a ball, his knees buckling, unable to keep him on his feet. John was looking at him, almost with a malevolent smile on his lips. 

 _Not wise, Mr. Reese_ Harold said with his eyes, trying not to give himself away under Dominic's scrutiny. 

"Don't stand there just watching!" Link said, still out of his breath. The tall guy moved and helped him up. 

Link stood in front of Reese again, hatred pouring out of his eyes and mouth. "Let's see if you keep that smile on when I'm done with you" he turned to the other guy "hand me his belt". Reese's face went blank, showing no emotion at all. Tall guy approached John from behind and began undoing his belt. Link adopted a thoughtful pose and added "remove his trousers too". The tall guy handed over the belt and opened the zipper from his trousers letting them slide down his long legs. Link proceeded to kneel trapping John's legs above his ankles with three loops of the leather band, securing it with the buckle. He then removed the black slacks completely from where they had pooled over his feet. 

"Better" he said with a satisfied look on his eyes.

 

"The all mighty Detective Riley! Don't you regret arresting me that day?" Reese almost shrugged at that adopting a face of indifference Harold had seen so many times. "This is what happens when you let your guard down. You directed us to your hiding place. Guess you are getting old, man..." With that he threw his fist connecting with John's liver. John didn't make a sound, closing his eyes only. Punches began raining all over his exposed body and each one was met with the same silence treatment as the one before. Link began getting frustrated, not being able to drag a single sound from his victim's lips. He turned towards the shelves and took a piece of metal pipe. Harold watched in horror as Link approached Reese from behind, landing a heavy blow to his friend’s back. With that John grunted and coughed out of breath. He let his head hang with his chin touching his chest, whizzing. 

Link continued his assault, connecting each blow with John's ribs, abdomen and legs. The pain must have been stronger than before because now Harold could listen to little moans and grunts escaping John's mouth accompanied by long noisy breath intakes. _Bruised ribs, maybe even broken ones..._

 

He couldn't look at his friend like this, so he lowered his head in defeat. "Stop it! I'll tell you what you want to know, just leave him alone." 

 

Dominic signaled Link to stop by raising his hand. "That wasn’t that hard, was it? Now, who the hell are you and why is the detective working with you?" he asked, crossing his arms above his chest.

 

"My name is Harold and what I do may be hard to explain... We help people out of difficult situations.” 

"So... Harold, how do you know who to help? Why do you keep messing with my affairs?"

"We just hear someone is in danger and we intervene before it is too late... " 

“Yeah, that much I get… The real question here is how do you get your information? I’m sure as hell it doesn’t come from the Detective’s contacts at the NYPD. I’ve got my own inside man and from what I’ve heard not a single report could give us away before you intervene. Your source, I want it.”

“I can’t, even if I wanted to… See, you are just a pawn in a game you couldn’t even begin to understand.”

“Try me…”

 

Harold remained silent for a while, not sure what to say next. He couldn’t disclose the existence of the Machine to some aspiring mob boss just like that. Imagining he believed him, it will only drive his insatiable curiosity to have more questions.

“I’m just good with computers, a hacker you could say.” That was the best thing he could come up with.

“So you are telling me that you can see the future just by accessing privileged information? Why, if that’s the case waste that amount of power in saving people you don’t even now? What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing. What you said back at the station, you are wrong about us. We help people because we can and because that’s the right thing to do. We don’t need anything in return.”

“Community service, you should try it some time.” Reese hissed, still catching his breath. It earned him another blow with the pipe to his ribs. He coughed again trying to regain control of his breathing.

 

“Well, let’s just assume all these altruistic acts come from the goodness of your heart. Even the best hacker in the world would need someone to point in the right direction. You said you listen someone needs help and you help. Who is your source?” Dominic’s voice was starting to sound exasperated again.

 

Harold was speechless again. _What should I do?_ He pleaded to his mind. He turned to look at John, losing himself in his concerned blue eyes.

 

“Ok… If you are not going to talk, why don’t we continue with the fun?” With that, Dominic left Harold’s side and walked towards the metallic stand. He roamed through the boxes, taking out a switch blade from one of them. He turned to face them, switching it open in a theatrical way. He approached John, big smile on his face.

 

“Payback for all the trouble you’ve caused me” was the only thing he said before he stretched his arms and grabbed Reese’s shirt cuff. He inserted the blade between the cloth and his wrist and with a swift movement, he cut through the fabric with it. He proceeded with the other sleeve exposing both of his arms. He walked around him and with the same easiness he tore the shirt and undershirt baring John’s upper body to the room. Harold hadn’t seen him this vulnerable in a long time. Not even when he helped Miss Shaw to fix him after the HR mess. Right now, he was presented to anyone who wanted to exact revenge on him for sticking their noses in their business, like an animal waiting to be slaughtered. The only dignity they left him with was his boxers, which remained untouched.

 

“I didn’t know you liked to get your hands dirty with all those men ready to do it for you.” Reese continued teasing. Harold could only assume it was John’s way of counter attacking restricted as he was, unable to do anything else.

“Nothing wrong with wanting to have some fun once in a while” Dominic said, as he returned to face him. He placed the blade to Reese’s left bicep, putting enough pressure just to draw a single drop of blood from it. Taking it back, he observed as the drop fell to the floor. Returning his attention to his arm he placed three fast vicious cuts in the place he just scarred. Not a single sound came out of his victim, the cuts being too superficial to really inflict real damage. John eyes were closed, his mind probably miles away keeping the pain at bay.

 

Harold watched powerlessly as The Brotherhood’s leader continued his assault over John’s body. Another three shallow cuts appeared in his other arm, mirroring the ones on his left. Then, he moved to John’s shoulders where several gunshot scars stained his skin. The amount of times John had been shot in those places was incredible. Harold could only cringe, remembering the pain he felt when he himself got shot before Reese rescued him from a certain death by the hands of that Decima’s agent before Samaritan raised. The scars indicated soft skin and bruised nerves like a neon sign, shouting to be reopened by someone who wanted to inflict excruciating pain on their owner. With the tip of the switchblade, Dominic dug in each one, drawing some pained air intakes from his victim and a casual fidgeting motion of his arms, trying to get away from the inflicting object. Thin threads of blood started pouring out of the wounds, traveling down Reese’s torso and staining his white underwear’s waistband. Sweat began bathing John’s face and body skin, despite the cold temperature that prevailed in the room.

 

It was way too much for Harold to process. He started yelling, begging him to stop it, promising to spill each and every secret he possessed. He tried to fight his restrains, he wished he could stand up and help him in any way he could. Doing that only worsened his own pain, his back protesting with every move of his arms. No one paid attention to him; Dominic too concentrated on his revenge on the man who spoiled so many of his plans, the other gang members watching closely at the scene and John too far gone to even hear him.

 

The next thing he saw was a red line forming from the base of his friend’s neck all the way down to his navel, missing it only because Dominic pocked the scar above it, the same scar the CIA left in his abdomen that loathed night at the beginning of their partnership. The cut was deeper than the ones on his arms, more blood pouring out of it. At that, Reese opened his eyes seething through the pain, contained rage evident in his murderous eyes and in the tight line his lips formed. Dominic took to steps backwards, admiring his handiwork.

“Did the cat bit your tongue? Or are you just out of witty remarks, Detective?”

“When I get out of this, I will kill you.” Reese said with the same unaltered tone he always used to intimidate.

Dominic placed the knife to Reese’s throat. John continued to stare at him unperturbed, shuddering just a little.

“We’ll see about that, but I’m not so sure about it” Dominic mocked, folding the switchblade and putting it inside his trousers pockets. He returned to his place next to Harold, placing his arms on his hips.

 

“Gave you more than enough time to think about your next answer. Ready to talk?” Dominic taunted.

“I built a predicting system that tells us where to look…” Harold started, not sure where those words came from. He didn’t want to be responsible for his friend’s pain anymore, or at least for more of it. “… I can’t…”

 

“Harold! Shut up… As soon as he gets what he wants he is going to kill you, don’t you see that! Man can’t keep his word.” John interrupted him, looking at Harold in a reproving way.

“I warned you, remember?” Dominic said, his gaze upon him as he signaled Tall guy. It was really scary to see that all his silent orders were understood by his men. The thug picked up a piece of John’s shirt from the floor and tore it, producing a long strip of cloth. He proceeded to tangle it, making a knot in the middle of it. Then he walked ‘till he was standing behind Reese. He fixed it between John's lips and inside his mouth, struggling with their unwilling captive. Tall man secured the gag with a tight knot behind Reese’s nape and returned to his place in the back of the room. John continued looking at his boss, unable to say anything else for the moment.

 

“I want access to your system. We could put this whole city on its knees. I have the manpower and you are the guy with the answers. Think about it.”

“You’re a murderer with dreams of greatness, blinded by your own arrogance. What makes you think I want to partner up with you?” Harold turned to look at him, gravity emanating from his voice and facial features.

“I really don’t see why you serve Elias’ purposes instead. Why do you serve him? Why does he get a pass?” A puzzled look disturbed Dominic’s previous confident façade.

 

“Mr. Elias and us share a complicated past. At first we were enemies, but certain events happened over the years that forced me to realize that even if he was nothing more than a gangster, it was a necessary evil in a city that constantly inclined towards chaos. He brings balance to this city, and while I don’t approve of his methods I consider the city to be better under his watch than the one of a selfish newcomer. We don’t serve him, we simply coexist. He stays out of our way and we stay out of his. As simple as that. You, on the other hand, keep hurting and executing innocent people in your path towards the top of the food chain and that we can’t allow.” Harold stopped talking, averting his eyes from their torturer. “Just kill me already, I’m not telling you anything else unless you let him go” Harold said.

 

“That I can’t do, he knows too much already. If I can’t convince him to serve me instead of Elias I will have to kill him. The only variable here will be how much suffering you are going to put him through before we reach that moment. It’s up to you!” He forced a finger to Harold’s chest to make his point.

 _Wasn’t he listening? There was no way they could change up their minds._ Harold dropped his chin to his chest and continued. “You are a clever man, killing a cop would only get the FBI knocking on your door. Is that what you want?”

“I’ll take my chances. I’ll leave you two to think about it. It’s been a long night.”

 

Dominic turned to the men that were next to the pulley controls. “Lower him down. Leave him on his knees…” He said. Harold watched as John’s body was slowly lowered from his straightened position until he was forced to kneel on the floor, the pulley readjusting to keep his arms stretched above his head. One of the thugs approached him with a roll of duct tape, securing his wrists along with the rope to the hook connected to the chain. Any possibility of escaping that position gone the moment they did that. With his ankles still bound with his belt it was going to be impossible to stand and try to make a run for it.

 

Dominic walked towards him crouching in front of him. “Hope you get some rest, tomorrow will be a new day.” John bit on the cloth, piercing him with his eyes. The Brotherhood’s leader searched his pockets, looking for the blade he used before. He retrieved it and opened it, playing with it in front of Reese’s face. He then lowered his arm and jammed it into his victims left leg calf. The attack caught John off guard which made him wince against the gag, closing his eyelids with force, letting his head fall to his chest. “That’s for Link. Next time you’ll think before you do anything stupid.”

 

“No!” Harold screamed, surprised at what he was witnessing. Dominic stood up, leaving the knife inside John’s flesh. A little pool of blood started to gather under his lower leg, the protruding object moving slightly with every shudder that ran through Reese’s body. Directing himself to Harold he said, “Don’t worry; it’s not a mortal wound. It’s only going to hurt like hell. I suggest you really think about this attitude you are so eager on keeping up or this is going to get much worse.” And with that he and his men left the room, locking the door behind them. Harold turned his face away from his friend as much as his sore neck would allow him, not even able to say anything comforting for the time being. Silence, accompanied by Reese’s troubled breathing were the only sounds that he heard for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always kudos and comments are highly appreciated :)  
> The boys are going to need help, soon.  
> I kept thinking "Poor John" while writing this but also "Poor Harold". I would hate to be in his position :S Yikes!


	7. We Are Going To Die Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more for all the time I left this story unattended. Enjoy!

Another half hour or so passed before Harold gathered the strength to check on his friend. He was surprised to find John’s intense blue eyes looking at him too. They were half closed but still very much alert. Finch examined his partner’s wounds from a distance not sparing a glimpse to the blade stuck in Reese’s calf, the memory still too fresh in his mind to go through it again. He returned his sight to his eyes, trying to reassure him with his concerned ones. _We are going to die here_ , he thought. Of all the recent threats they’ve been under, this one had always seemed to be the least likely to take them out of the game. It didn’t matter if Samaritan was stronger than a simple street gang; they were the ones who were clever enough to spot the little details. The cover identities that had protected them from the eyes of an all-seeing AI had exposed them to other adversaries.

 

Harold licked his lips. “How… How are you… holding up, John?” was all he managed to say. Reese nodded his head in response, an action Harold interpreted as an _I’m fine_ gesture. Harold continued looking at his eyes, “I saw the way you looked at me when I said I didn’t care about you. I just want to make it clear that it was a strategy and just that. I didn’t mean it at all.” Finch could see how John rolled his eyes leaving them half opened in a condemnatory way, making it clear he wasn’t offended then but making it clear he was now. “I know, how could I have thought that? Sorry…” He averted his eyes, not sure how to proceed.

 

Less than a minute later he returned his attention to his associate when he heard the rattling sound of the chain. John was looking up, assessing his bonds, pulling against them. After that, he turned his head behind his left arm, trying to steal a glance at the blade embedded in his skin. While he was at it, Harold observed Reese’s bound hands noticing his fingertips were starting to turn purple, deprived as they were from normal blood flow. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the agony he must have gone through. It didn’t matter he was trained to endure it in his past career. High tolerance or not, pain was pain. He knew it all too well.

 

“I’m so sorry about all of this, John. I’m sure you are in pain. I just wish I could do something about it. As you must certainly have figured out yourself, our chances of getting out of here alive are decreasing by the minute. I’m confident no one knows we are here so we can rule out the possibility of rescue.” Harold lowered his head, continuing “I think I’ll just tell them what they want to know.” When he looked back at Reese, he was shaking his head in disapproval. “I know this is the last thing you would want me to do but I can’t stay here, watching as those men torture you to death. I won’t be responsible of anymore of your suffering. So the faster this is over the better.” Determination showing in every word he spoke.

 

Harold watched in disbelieve as John pulled himself into a standing position, his legs propelling his body from below, arms tensing supporting his weight and his restricted hands holding himself up by grabbing the chain they were tied to. “Be careful, John. You’re going to hurt yourself.” _More than you already are,_ the sarcastic voice in his head completed. He continued, not listening to Harold’s advice. Reese stood on his feet, favoring his right leg as best as he could with his ankles secured together. He grimaced just once or twice in the process, all the exertion causing him to breathe heavily through his nose. Finch kept on watching him, John’s fingers fumbling with the gag, trying to take it off. After several unsuccessful attempts it was finally removed from his mouth, falling down over his neck like a collar. He worked his jaw, opening and closing it freely. He drew in a big breathe flinching as the air filled his lungs, pressing his bruised ribs from the inside. He coughed once or twice before speaking for what felt like ages, “I can’t undo this” he said shaking his joined hands in frustration, his eyes fixed on them. He returned to a kneeling position, his stabbed leg not being able to support him for much longer.

 

 

“Are you alright?” Harold asked again, wanting to hear it from his mouth.

“I’m okay. I’ve seen worse” Reese replied, frowning as he readjusted his legs under him letting his body weight rest on them, trying to relieve the tension on his shoulders. Harold could only half laugh at that. _How does worse looked like?_ He thought hoping to never find out. Reese was trying to diminish the severity of his situation which only worried him more.

“Any broken ribs, trouble with breathing?” Harold enquired, really concerned about his friend’s condition.

“I’m not sure, but they are bruised enough to make breathing a rather painful but fun experience, if you know what I mean.” Reese smiled at his own comment, turning to look at Harold.

“I don’t know what that means, Mr. Reese and I’m sure it isn’t funny.” Harold scolded him, severe look on his eyes. The smile over Reese’s lips disappeared, a firm horizontal line replacing it soon after, eyes staring blankly at nothing specific.

 

“You know, it isn’t your fault. I should have been more careful. After all I’m the one they were out to get.” John said, a defeated tone flooding his voice. “I had it coming, should have taken care of this while I had the opportunity. I’m the one who needs to apologize…”

“This won’t serve any purpose…” Harold interrupted him, “…right now we should focus on a way to get out of this predicament.”

“About what you said before… What do you plan on telling Dominic, uh? That there’s a machine watching over us, that it only gives you the information it considers appropriate and that you don’t have the slightest idea where it is. He won’t get the answers he is hoping for. We are death anyway. I just wish you weren’t here.” John’s chin dropped to his chest.

 

“There must be something we can do. We can’t just give up like that…” Harold uttered, desperately trying to convince John as much as himself that they could still make it.

“Face it, Finch. I don’t think there’s a way out of this… Look at us; we are in over our heads. Best we could do is rest while we can, especially you. If the opportunity arises, we need to be ready. Dominic isn’t going to kill you until he gets what he wants. We should hold on to that for as long as we can.” Reese said, resting his head on his inner arm and closing his eyes.

 

“What did you mean by _especially me_?” Harold threw an inquisitive look in John’s direction.

Reese didn’t even bother with lifting his head from where he placed it before. He just continued, his monotonous voice barely audible. He was exhausted, words dragging along his mouth.

“Of the two of us, you are the one who is irreplaceable. I know you won’t admit it but you can always find someone with a similar skills set as mine to help you with the numbers.”

“Mr. Reese, don’t even think on…” Harold tried to interrupt his partner’s train of thoughts.

“I’m not giving up just yet, if that’s what you think. All I’m saying is, we need to focus on you making it out alive. The world’s gonna need you. You’re the only one who can stop Samaritan’s path towards world domination. I’m just a pawn, just like you said before. While I don’t want to die, I would be fine with my demise if that kept you out of harm’s way. As I had told you before, there’s people the world can’t afford to lose. That includes you.”

 

Harold didn’t know what to say. The faith his friend always put on him was comforting, yet a little overwhelming. Even if they could make it out alive, he wasn’t that sure he could defeat Samaritan. They were a small group of people fighting against an army of followers that wouldn’t give it a second thought to give their lives for the cause.

 

“You’re as important as anyone… I’m not leaving you here to die alone, John.”

“I know…” John said, eyes still closed but with a smile decorating his battered face. “Now try to get some rest. It’s been a long day. I’ll keep watch.”

“I don’t think I could do that, even if I tried” Harold said in response. Silence downed again over them, John drowsing semi alert in his enforced position and Harold lost in his thoughts, reviewing their options, searching for an angle. There must be a way to trick Dominic. He just had to keep thinking. His body ached tremendously, his hands felt numb tied as they were. After ten minutes of just looking at a spot on the wall in front of him, he felt his head was starting to bob, his mind fighting his bodily need to fall asleep. Darkness welcomed his exhausted mind promising oblivion and relief. He would find a way to save both of them, he just had to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments are highly appreciated. Hope I'll be back soon. Semester is over in 3 weeks but I'll try to come back as soon as it is over. Maybe even earlier.


End file.
